


Family Secrets

by Shinigami_Mistress (Southern_Breeze)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Death, Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Therapy, twists and turns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Shinigami_Mistress
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive is going through a lot in his life. His twin brother has just died, and Ciel doesn't feel that he really belongs with the rest of the family. At least he does have a friend - a caretaker known as Mr. Sebastian. With Sebastian, Ciel had someone to talk to and confide in. Things, however, are rarely all they seem and secrets from the past are ready to reveal themselves once more.





	Family Secrets

Chapter 1:

The tall, golden grass waved lazily in the cool, crisp breeze as birds sang happily from the distant trees; hiding among the branches of brightly colored leaves. The sky was nearly a faultless expanse of endless blue except for some dark clouds gathering on the horizon like a spreading bruise. There was a storm in the distance, but for now the weather seemed ideal - almost too perfect. A small boy hurried through the field; his dark clothes contrasting greatly with the bright colors around him. He wasn’t running, but his steps were quick and jerky as if he was a bad marionette. It seemed that he wanted to run, but something unseen was holding him back. He wiped his dry eyes as he rounded a small embankment and a cozy farmhouse came into view.

  
The house was tucked away in the corner of the field with its back against the woods like it was some sort of secret, but it was pleasant enough to the eyes. A wide, rough hewn porch greeted the random passersby like a broad smile as large, curtainless windows stared out without judgement or conviction. It had been painted white many years prior, and it still looked bright despite its age, but there were places where the bare wood peeked out from thinning and cracked spots in the paint.

  
The boy jumped up the few steps and onto the porch, but paused as his dark blue eyes stared down at the ground. Beside some late blooming roses, lay a dead squirrel. Whatever injuries it had sustained to cause its death were not visible, but its eyes were wide and unseeing, and its small tongue was hanging out of its mouth. Flies were buzzing around the stiffened corpse as if the insects were singing their own dirge.

  
For several minutes, the boy could only gawk at the gruesome sight before he inhaled quickly and turned away. His previously dry eyes began to water, and began to flow despite his desperate, frenzied blinking. He leaned against a nearby porch post; ignoring any splinters as he placed his forehead against the cool wood. Gasping again, he cried with almost no sound as the wind shifted as if trying to comfort him.

  
Regaining his composure, the boy walked across the porch, the wood creaking beneath his black shoes, and knocked on the heavy door.

  
“Mr. Sebastian?” he said, as he opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

  
The inside of the house was spotless and immaculate, but it looked more like the set of a play than someone’s living quarters. Directly across from him, on the wall, hung an oval picture of a handsome woman whose mysterious eyes seemed to greet all visitors. Time had not been kind to the picture as it had discolored, but there was still power in the woman’s gaze and smile. Ciel had often paused to stare at the picture as he knew it to be his grandmother, Claudia, who had died long before he was born. There was supposedly a family resemblance, but he had yet to see it as he found his grandmother to be a cold beauty.

  
Turning to the left, he entered a small living room, but it was nearly as sparsely decorated as the entryway with only two small tables and a single chair, all of which were set in the middle of the room. The chair was positioned so that it soaked up all the sun which streamed readily through the large windows, and its red surface gleamed like a forgotten jewel. It seemed out of place in the antique, rustic cabin; like a throne that had been stolen from a glorious castle.

  
And the man that sat upon the chair could easily have been a king.

  
Upon hearing Ciel walk into the room, Mr. Sebastian looked up from the book he held in his long, elegant fingers and smiled. “Ciel,” he greeted, “my young friend. It is good to see you again.” He set the book aside on a small table as he stood; his form appearing to be very tall and slim as he was clad only in black attire. Despite his dark clothing, or maybe because of it, he stood apart from his surroundings, and Ciel was struck again by the feeling that Mr. Sebastian didn’t belong in such a drab and dreary place. He could have easily been some sort of celebrity with his flawless, alabaster looks instead of just a caretaker. It wasn’t that Mr. Sebastian had ever complained about his position, but it was clear that he was a restless, ambitious man by the way he would sometimes stand by the window and stare out into the fields. To Ciel, the man was a caged bird, just dying to stretch his wings and fly away.

  
Ciel’s mouth twitched upward briefly - a vain attempt of a smile, but then his lips began to tremble as his eyes became watery once more.

  
Sebastian cocked his head sideways much like a curious dog, which caused his raven hair to fall over his face and seemingly flawless carved features. “You seem upset,” he said, “Is this about your brother?”

  
Ciel gasped. “How..how did you know?”

  
“News travels fast,” Sebastian replied, “I understand his funeral is today.”

  
Ciel managed to nod before rushing forward and falling against Sebastian. He wrapped his arms loosely around him as he cried large, ugly tears. Sebastian put his hands lightly on the boy’s shoulders as he cried.

  
“I don’t know what to do,” Ciel said, his voice muffled against Sebastian’s clothing, “He was the special one. I’m...I’m not.”

  
“That isn’t true,” Sebastian said, “you are special in your own way.”

  
Ciel looked up at him. “Really?”

  
“Yes. Really.”

  
Wiping his eyes, Ciel took a step back. “Are you coming to the funeral?” He asked.

  
Sebastian shook his head. “No. I can’t. I have to stay here.”

  
“Because you’re the caretaker,” Ciel said softly.

  
“That I am,” Sebastian said, as he laid his hand on Ciel’s shoulder once more. “I hate to rush you along, but I think you should hurry home. I’m sure you parents are looking for you, and it’s almost time to go.”

  
Ciel took a step back. “Do you really think they are looking for me?”

  
Sebastian nodded. “Of course. It is nearly time, and they certainly wouldn’t want to leave you behind.” He gently lifted Ciel’s chin and wiped away a lone tear that was slowly trekking down his youthful face. “Because you are special. I want you to remember that. Will you promise to do so?”

  
“I’ll try,” Ciel said without any real conviction, as he slowly turned and took a few steps towards the door. “Uh, Mr. Sebastian?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“Do you think we can talk later?”

  
Sebastian’s smile was gentle. “Of course. I’m sure you have plenty you wish to discuss.”

  
Ciel’s smile was weak but genuine as he ran out of the house, leaving the door open as he rushed across the field. A small flock of birds took to the air as the boy ran among them, but he didn’t pause as he hurried back towards the large manor that served as him home.

  
Sebastian stepped to the doorway as he watched Ciel run. His expression was nearly impossible to read as his rich, brown eyes followed the boy’s progress; pausing only once to allow his gaze to follow a single bird as it took to the sky and disappeared against the glare of the sun.

* * *

Ciel ran through the field; the autumn wind tussling his dark hair like playful fingers as he cut through the tall grass. He didn’t look back as the small house slowly hid itself once again by a grove of trees who already sporting their fall fashions. Instead, he stared ahead as his own house came into view.

  
The contrast between the two homes was unmistakable and jarring. The house that rose before him like a formidable mountain was a mansion of countless rooms filled with fine furniture and antiques. It stood proudly on a slight knoll; it’ many windows peering out into the world, but as Ciel slowed his steps, he couldn’t help but think that it looked far less welcoming and friendly than Mr. Sebastian’s cottage. There was no wide, wooden porch to greet any visitors but rather a cement slab set firmly between four stone columns. The ornate, double doors glistened in the sun, but they looked more like a hungry mouth just ready to swallow him alive. His steps became more and more hesitant as he approached. While he recognized that most people would have far preferred the fine mansion with its many creature comforts, Ciel felt like he didn’t belong here.

  
His brother had but not him.

  
Slowly, he opened the heavy door and stepped inside the immaculate foyer. A gigantic spray of autumn flowers was set on an oak table directly in front of him, and above the flowers was a portrait of two boys - of his brother and him. It was positioned much like the one of Claudia in Mr. Sebastian’s house, but this was a new picture that had not yet seen the ravages of time. His brother was sitting slightly above him exuding confidence and strength despite his young age. Ciel stepped forward and looked more carefully at the picture. It was such a casual pose - him sitting on the floor while his brother sat in the chair behind him. His brother had always been above him somehow, or so it had seemed to Ciel. Everyone had always said that they looked exactly alike, which was expected of twins, but Ciel thought the resemblance was minimal. Despite the same color hair and eyes, his brother had always seemed to be older and wiser. It was as if he had taken Ciel’s portion of their shared inner strength for himself.

  
But now his face would never grow any older.

  
“There you are!” his mother suddenly yelled, “Where have you been?”

  
She rushed into the room; her black cloak streaming behind her like a pair of beautiful, broken wings. As she knelt before him and knocked away imagined dirt from his clothes, he took the time to really look at his mother. She was beautiful in an elegant yet effortless way. Her cornflower hair had been pulled back in a tasteful bun at the base of her neck, but a few strands had pulled lose to frame her still youthful face. His brother had once said their mother was just as pretty as any of the women in the movies, and Ciel had to agree. Even now in her plain, black funeral attire and the puffiness around her sky blue eyes, she was still beautiful. She continued to examine his clothes with a worried, nervous energy.

  
“Rachel,” his father said gently, stepping into the foyer, “Leave the boy’s clothes alone. He’s fine.”

  
It was his father that Ciel really resembled in appearance. He had the same blue-black hair that always hung aimlessly over a broad, intelligent forehead and the same dark blue eyes, yet his father had that same strength that his brother had and Ciel lacked. It was clear in his movements and the way he could command a room simply by entering.

  
Rachel stood. “I just want everything to be….” Her voice trailed off as she brought one well-manicured hand to his face. “No, that’s not what I wanted to say,” she mumbled.

  
Her husband stepped forward and placed his arms carefully around her back and pulled her closer. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.

  
“No it’s not,” she replied, “How can you say that, Vincent? Our son is dead!” She sobbed into her hands as her body crumbled under its own weight. Vincent pulled her closer and held her tightly to keep her from falling.

  
He whispered to her comforting words that did not quite reach Ciel’s ears as Vincent led her from the foyer and into another room; leaving Ciel standing all alone only his parents.

  
He was silent as a shadow.

  
And as still as death.

  
After several minutes, they returned to the foyer. Rachel now had a dainty, lace handkerchief covering her nose and trembling lips, and a sheer, black veil to hide her swollen eyes. Despite his own grief, Vincent looked striking and well put together in his black suit.

  
“Are we ready?” Vincent asked. Rachel nodded gently, although the grief upon her face made her look far from ready. “Tanaka’s bringing the car around.” Even his strong voice cracked as he spoke.

  
Vincent opened the door just as the long, black car slid up the circle drive and paused in front of their door. Tanaka stepped out of the car and nodded towards the family, but his own dark eyes were shining with grieving pain. After all, he had served the family since Vincent was a boy, and he had been present when Ciel and his brother were born. He opened the car door and motioned to the family.

  
Rachel crawled inside first; her hands clutching tightly to her handkerchief as she stared at the floor. Vincent sat down next to his wife. He wrapped his arm about her shoulders, but she didn’t lean into her husband. Her body was rigid as she sat there with her gaze fixed upon the floor although there was nothing visible that had captured her attention. Ciel sat down opposite his parents; wanting to go to them, but feeling as if there was an invisible obstacle between them. With a nearly inaudible sigh, he stared out the window instead as Tanaka returned to the driver’s seat and drove smoothly down the drive and onto the road. The view that slipped past the window was the purest of autumnal sights with the red and yellow leaves and wide, grassy fields, but that seemed so wrong to Ciel. The world should not look so happy and beautiful when something so horrible had happened. Still, he looked at that window because he didn’t want to see his mother cry anymore.

  
It wasn’t long before the church came into view; a tall slender building with a white steeple and narrow, stain glass windows. It was the epitome of an elegant church, and it had been his family’s church for as long as Ciel could remember. He had even asked his father once if they had owned the church, which had prompted his father to chuckle. Vincent had explained that their family had donated the church grounds as well as money to construct the building, but they didn’t own the church itself. While he had explained it well, Ciel hadn’t understood his completely, and he was unsure if he ever would. The boy stared up at the tall building as Tanaka parked near the steps and stopped the car. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Vincent finally cleared his throat.

  
“Are you ready?” he asked in a quiet tone.

  
Rachel violently shook her head. “Not yet,” she whispered, “Not yet. I just can’t.”

  
“I’m going to go in,” Vincent said, “to make sure everything’s...okay.” He slid out of the car. “I’ll be back soon.”

  
Ciel quickly jumped out of the car and stood beside his father. “I’ll help you,” he offered.

  
Vincent looked down and gave him a ghost of a smile. “Thank you,” he said, as he took Ciel’s hand in his own, “I appreciate that.”

  
Turning, they left Rachel crying in the car as they walked up the broad steps of the church. Ciel hurried to keep up with his father’s steady stride.  
Vincent didn’t seem to notice.

  
Pushing open the heavy doors, they stepped inside and stood for a moment just breathing in the heavy, stuffy air before a priest approached them.  
“Vincent,” the priest said, “I am glad to see you again, although I’m truly sorry for the circumstances.” He smiled at them; the facial expression seemingly at home on his round, pleasant face. While not a handsome man, the priest had his own charm with friendly, brown eyes and ruddy cheeks. He almost looked like a board despite his thinning blonde hair and somewhat stocky frame.

  
“Thank you, Father Williams,” Vincent said, letting go of Ciel’s grasp to shake the priest’s hand, “I’m sorry we haven’t been to church more lately, although I trust you received my donation.”

  
“Yes. Yes,” Father Williams said, “but let us not speak of such issues now on this sad day.” He continued talking, but Ciel didn’t listen as he slowly began to drift away from the two and down the aisle between the pews. Each step brought him closer to the small, gold gilded coffin that set just before the altar. Step by step, he moved closer and all the sounds of the world around him grew distant. He didn’t look at all the flowers that had already been arranged as he walked. His eyes were fixed as the face of his brother who lay in that coffin.

  
A face that looked just like his own.

  
Even Ciel’s breathing slowed as he approached his dead twin. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. His brother looked so peaceful and calm - like he was simply sleeping.

“Just sit up and say boo,” Ciel whispered as he took those final steps, but his brother didn’t move. He wanted this to be a prank as his brother had always been playing tricks on him. He had always said that Ciel was too easy to fool, which had annoyed Ciel in the past, but now he was just hoping this was just another joke.

  
“Son?” Vincent asked, laying his hand on his son’s shoulder.

  
Ciel jumped. He hadn’t heard his father approaching, and he looked up with fresh tears that stung his eyes. “This isn’t right,” he quietly whispered.

  
“I know,” Vincent said, pulling him close and hugging him, “It isn’t, but sometimes life doesn’t seem right.” For the first time, there were tears in his father’s eyes and he spoke, and Ciel gazed in wonder. “We just have to keep moving forward though.” He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand as he moved to stand closer to the casket.

  
“Dad?” Ciel asked.

  
“Yes?”

  
Ciel cleared his throat as his gaze drifted towards the floor and the maroon rug. “How...how did it happen?”

  
Vincent frowned. “How did what happen?”

  
“How did he… die?” Ciel managed to say, “I don’t understand.”

  
For several minutes, Vincent stared at him quizzically. “But you,” he began, before shaking his head and taking a step back. He sat down on a pew and motioned for Ciel to join him. The boy hurried over to sit beside his father as he waited for an answer.

  
“Your brother drowned,” he finally said.

  
“Drowned?”

  
“Yes,” Vincent replied, “There’s an old pond on the eastern edge of the property. Many years ago, it was used as a water supply for the cattle your grandmother raised, but then the water turned black.”

  
“Why would water just turn black?” Ciel asked.

  
“Bacteria most likely, but your grandmother simply stopped using the pond. It was around the time that she made her fortune anyway, so she had no reason to continue raising cattle.” Vincent coughed, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. “The pond was drained, but there’s a little water left as well as a lot of mud.”

  
“If it was drained, how could he have drowned? I don’t understand.”

  
“It’s hard to understand,” Vincent said, “He might have been playing near there and gone into what’s left of the pond for some reason. That mud is thick, and it must have caused him to fall, and then he wasn’t able to get out. There’s not a lot of water left, but…”

  
A loud sob interrupted him, and they turned to see Rachel had entered the church and was standing nearby.

  
“Dear,” Vincent said, as he jumped to his feet and rushed to her side. Ciel also stood, but he saw another woman was now standing behind his mother; a tall woman with dazzling peculiar silver hair, intelligent eyes, and a stern look on her beautiful face.

  
“Thank you for coming, Frances,” Vincent said, as he looked over his wife’s shoulder.

  
Frances nodded. “Are all the arrangements taken care of?” she asked, “Or do you need any assistance? Lizzy and I arrived early in case we were needed.” As if those words were her cue, Lizzy stepped out. At first glance, she looked almost precisely like a younger version of her mother, with the exception of her blonde curls. Both were dressed in immaculate, fashionable black dresses and seemed to radiate elegance and strength.

  
“Everything is ready,” Vincent said, “but thank you again. You are truly a blessing as a sister.” He stepped around Rachel to take hold of Frances’s gloved hand. “Would you mind sitting with Rachel for a few minutes? I need to step outside for just a moment.”

  
“Of course,” agreed Frances.

  
Vincent nodded and hurried down the aisle towards the door. Ciel started to follow his father, but Lizzy suddenly moved into his path, clutching a handkerchief in her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she said, as she grabbed him in a tight embrace.

  
Ciel hugged her. “It’s okay,” he said.

  
“No,” she cried, “I mean, I don’t know what I would do if lost Edward.” She held him tighter. “But I’m here for you. We’ll cry together.”

  
Vincent was now out of sight, so Ciel sat beside his mother and his aunt. Lizzy never let go of his hand as she sat down beside him. Although there were tears in her eyes, she never looked directly at the casket or towards the front of the room. It appeared that she was avoiding setting her gaze upon his dead brother.

  
A side door suddenly opened with a loud creak and slammed into the wall. An unseasonably cold wind rushed into the room as did a few dead, autumn leaves, but no one stood framed by the doorway. It was as if it had simply opened by itself. The wind made a loud, horrible noise as it whistled through the door, which sounded like distant laughter.

  
Rachel screamed and suddenly slumped in her seat, losing consciousness.

* * *

Ciel ran through the field, but there was no joy nor freedom in his actions. He had to go. He was being called to go, but it was a difficult journey. The ground beneath his feet had grown soft and spongy. It clung to them as he ran, as if there were thousands of hands trying to pull him down into the dirt; only clinging tighter as he tried to hurry  
He came around the corner and saw Mr. Sebastian’s house, or rather the house that had once belonged to his grandmother, but he had no time for a pleasant visit. Taking one last look at the quaint farmhouse, he struggled to climb the knoll, which grew steeper with every step. After several minutes of trying, he made it to the top.

  
His brother was standing by the edge of the pond; his fine shoes stained with the ebony mud. Tears came to Ciel’s eyes as he rushed forward and threw his arms around him.  
“You’re alive!” he cried, his voice echoing and dancing on the wind, “I knew that it couldn’t be right.”

  
“What’s that?” his brother asked. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard Ciel’s words. He simply raised his hand and pointed to something in the center of the black pit of dirty water.

  
Ciel turned and looked in the direction his brother had pointed. “I don’t see anything,” he said, but then his eyes focused on something buried deep in water. It was as red as blood and seemed to glow somehow through the nasty water. It pulsed like a heart trapped deep with the foul mud.

  
“I’m going to get it,” announced his brother in an odd, hollow tone.

  
“No,” Ciel said, “I’ll get it. I don’t want you… to get hurt. I’ll get it. Just wait here.” Without giving him any time to argue, Ciel pushed forward to trudge through the black water. It smelled worse than before, and he used his free hand to pinch his nose as he struggled forward. Suddenly, he heard a loud and horrible voice.

  
“Is that such a good idea?” it asked.

  
The voice surrounded him, smothering him in its rich and threatening tones. Ciel searched for the speaker, but he had little time to ponder the situation. An inky hand and arm shot up from the mud beneath his feet and grabbed hold of his arm. He screamed, and turned his head to beg his brother for help.  
But he was alone.

  
Another hands shot forward, followed by another. They grabbed his body and started to pull him down into the mud and stagnant water. He only had minutes to scream before he would be dragged under.

* * *

Ciel screamed; his voice jerking from his throat as he desperately tried to pull himself free. He opened his eyes, but there was no black pond or mysterious, clinging hands. As his ragged breathing began to slow, his eyes danced around the bedroom.

  
There was a commotion in the hall, and the door was flung open. Yellow light flooded the room as Rachel stood there for a moment in her pink gown and the robe which splayed behind her like broken wings. “Ciel!” she screamed, but then she blinked several times, staring at her son in the bed. “What are you doing here?” she asked, “Why are you in your brother’s room?”

  
Ciel gasped as he looked around; confused and partially terrified as the dream was still clinging to his thoughts. Although he and his brother had never had to share rooms, there tastes were so similar their rooms were very much alike. If it were not for the awards placed proudly on a nearby shelf, this room could have easily been his own.. “I...I don’t know,” he said, “I went to sleep in my room.” He tugged the covers closer to him as he spoke.

  
Vincent walked up behind Rachel and yawned loudly. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  
Rachel didn’t bother to answer as she swept into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around her son and rocked him gently. “I know how much you miss him,” she whispered, “We all do.”

  
Ciel closed his eyes and allowed himself to be rocked. He didn’t bother telling his mother about the nightmare.


End file.
